The Girl on Fire
by Dawnstar08
Summary: A collection of scenes from the three Hunger Games books from different points of views.
1. Gale

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the Hunger Games books. This is an idea that I've wanted to test out for a while. Each chapter takes the point of view of one character present in the indicated scene. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

**Book: **The Hunger Games

**Scene: **The reaping

**POV: **Gale

Anger and hurt still throb inside me from Katniss's refusal to leave District 12 with me, but anxiety pushes them both away. What if my name is picked? My mother, without me or my father to help, would struggle to put enough food on the table for three children. The thought is almost too overwhelming.

Pushing these unwanted thoughts out of my head, I focus my attention on the front of the stage when the sole victor of District 12, Haymitch Abernathy, staggers drunkenly forward. He throws his arms around a pink-haired Effie Trinket, who looks alarmed and tries to fend him off.

To get the attention off of the drunken victor, the mayor introduces Effie Trinket, and she bounds forward, as cheerful as ever. She chirps in her silly Capitol accent, "Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be _ever_ in your favor!"

Tuning out most of the following, up-beat speech, I pick through the nervous faces until I find Katniss and our eyes meet. She looks slightly amused at this reaping's eventful start, but then she glances at the glass ball in front of the stage, and concern fills her eyes. Forty-two of the slips in there have my name on it, but she has a fair amount of her own slips. My jaw tightens as fear for her twists my stomach, and I look away.

Effie Trinket says as she has for all the past Hunger Games, "Ladies first!" and crosses over to the girl's reaping ball. She plunges her hand in, down towards the bottom. I clench my teeth. _Please. Not Katniss._ Her hand closes around a slip and draws it out. _Please. Not Katniss._ Effie Trinket crosses to the podium. The crowd is as silent as a graveyard. She holds up the slip. _Please._

"Primrose Everdeen."

No. It's not possible. Katniss never allowed Prim to take any tessarae, strictly forbidding it, so she would only have one slip. That one had been picked, one out of thousands. Disbelief leaves me numb. The crowd murmurs unhappily. No one likes to see a twelve-year-old chosen, especially not Prim.

White as a ghost and hands clenched by her sides, Prim rises stiffly from her chair and walks determinedly forward. A choking cry comes from behind her. "Prim!" Katniss cries, stumbling to her feet. "Prim!" The pain in Katniss's voice brings me to my feet, too.

Katniss reaches Prim and pushes her out of the way. "I volunteer!" she gasps. "I volunteer as tribute!" Anguish lurches in my stomach. _No!_

"Lovely!" says Effie Trinket. "But I believe there's the small matter of introducing the reaping winner and then asking for volunteers, and if no one does come forth then we, um…" she trails off, looking unsure.

"What does it matter?" the mayor asks, eyes fixed on Katniss, and even from where I'm standing, I can see the pain on his face. "What does it matter?" he repeats, louder. "Let her come forward."

"No, Katniss!" Prim, screaming hysterically, latches herself around Katniss's waist, holding on with all she's got. "No! You can't go!"

"Prim, let go," Katniss says harshly, trying to hold back tears. She sets her jaw and recovers herself, ignoring her sister's attempts. "Let go!"

My legs move of their own accord, bringing me to the front of the stage. I pull the still screaming Prim off of Katniss, and we lock eyes. "Up you go, Catnip," I say, trying to keep my voice steady, but it hurts. I want to scream like Prim, beg her not to go, do anything, but I know I can't change what's happened. All I do is carry the writhing and sobbing Prim off the stage.

Katniss mounts the stage, and I hear Effie Trinket gushing, "Well, bravo! That's the spirit of the Games!" She sounds thoroughly pleased. "What's your name?"

"Katniss Everdeen," comes the response.

"I bet my buttons that was your sister. Don't want her to steal all the glory, do we? Come on, everybody!" trills Effie Trinket, turning to the audience. "Let's give a big round of applause to our newest tribute!"

No one claps. No one moves. Katniss stands rigid on the stage, as the audience remains silent. Then, like a ripple of water, fanning out to every person in the square, they touch the three middle fingers of their left hand to their lips and then out to Katniss. A sign of thanks and a sign of admiration, a good-bye to someone you love. They know, as I do, that this is the end. She's not coming back. I'll lose her forever.

* * *

If anyone has suggestions for future chapters, I'd be happy to hear them! Please reply!


	2. Peeta

**Disclaimer:** I still don't own the Hunger Games.

* * *

**Book:** The Hunger Games

**Scene:** Katniss is trapped in a tree with the Careers at the base. After the fire.

**POV:** Peeta

The smoke is still so thick that I can barely breathe. I haven't seen Katniss at all, either in the arena since the Cornucopia or the projected image of her in the sky. She must be out there, somewhere, maybe caught in the forest fire. Maybe she's hurt and dying. Fear tightens my chest painfully.

Up ahead, the sound of splashing and running footsteps instantly brings all of the Careers, including me, to attention. "A tribute!" the District 2 girl, Clove, says, and we break into a run. Our prey is faster than us and has a head start, but with all six of us fanned out, they're forced to scramble up a tree. My heart sinks. Only one person could run that fast and climb so quickly. Before I get there, I know whom I'm going to see trapped in the branches.

Katniss sits perched in the fork of two branches twenty feet above our heads, pale and out of breath. Her hair is tangled and sooty, and she's favoring her right leg. I desperately hope that she didn't get badly burned.

The Careers gather at the base of the tree and gaze upward, but none of them seem too eager to climb up. Katniss must have noticed, because from above, she calls cheerfully, "How's everything with you?"

"Well enough," replies Cato, looking slightly angered at the turn of events. "Yourself?"

Katniss grins. "It's been a bit warm for my taste." The audience in the Capitol is going to love that. I can almost hear them roaring with laughter. If she wasn't in so much danger, I might have smiled. Instead, to give my hands something to do, I start to polish my knife with my shirt. The repetitive motion soothes me a little. "The air's better up here," she continues. "Why don't you come on up?"

"I think I will," Cato says, moving forward.

"Here, take this, Cato," says Glimmer, the girl from District One. She holds out the silver bow and sheath of arrows to him. As she finally finds the location of the only bow in the entire arena, Katniss's fury at being separated from it is almost tangible. I can feel her eyes on me, most likely filled with hatred, but I keep mine down as I continue to polish.

Cato pushes away the bow. "No," he says. "I'll do better with my sword." He reaches the base of the tree and hoists himself up. Above us, Katniss starts to climb higher. Cato doesn't even stand a chance, and before he's even reached her old perch, there's a snap and he thuds back to the ground, hard. He springs back to his feet, spitting with rage and swearing up a storm.

Brushing past him, Glimmer scales the tree and gets farther than Cato, but the branches start to complain under her weight and she stops. Katniss is now a good eighty feet up. Glimmer loads the bow and fires, but she's nowhere near good enough to hit her quarry. Seizing one of the arrows lodged in a branch, Katniss waves it tauntingly in the air, safely out of Glimmer's reach.

Furious at being outsmarted, the Careers regroup. "The stupid brat is too far away to get a clear shot at," Glimmer fumes, grinding her teeth in frustration.

"And climbing is out of the question," Clove points out, eyeing the still swearing Cato.

"I promise," Cato snarls, eyes narrowed, "when I catch her, she'll wish she'd never been born." I shudder slightly, trying to block out images of Cato gleefully torturing a trapped Katniss.

I sigh inwardly. _Oh, Katniss, _I think, sending a quick glance upward._ Do you know how much danger you are in?_ Trying to buy time, I say harshly, "Oh, let her stay up there. It's not like she's going anywhere." Which is true. "We'll deal with her in the morning." The Careers don't like it, but what other choice do they have?

Darkness is gathering, and quickly. Torches are lit, and the anthem plays. No faces appear in the sky tonight, but the Gamemakers won't be interfering. The whole Capitol is at their screens, watching the tribute trapped in the tree surrounded by Careers, wondering about the outcome. We pass around a small meal of bread, meat, and dried fruit, but my stomach is churning with anxiety and fear for Katniss and I don't eat much. Glimmer is set on guard duty, and the rest of us settle down for the night.

On my back, staring up at the leaves and branches that conceal Katniss, I contemplate my decision to join the Careers. _It's the best way to protect her,_ I tell myself. _As long as they hunt Katniss, I'll be near her._ I try to think of some way to get the Careers away from Katniss long enough to let her escape, but I'm too tired to even think straight. I close my eyes, fatigue winning out over fear, and drift into a fitful sleep.


	3. Rue

**Disclaimer: **If I owned the Hunger Games, I think Mockingjay would have had a different ending… But that's beside the point. Anyway, nope, I don't own it.

* * *

**Book: **The Hunger Games

**Scene:** Katniss destroys Careers' food and Rue's death

**POV:** Rue

Being extra cautious, I drop to the ground beside the spot where earlier in the morning Katniss and I set up tinder and kindling for the second fire. After looking around carefully to ensure that I'm alone, I kneel beside the small hut of green branches. From the pack on my back, I take out one of the matches and light it. Not a breath of wind stirs the branches overhead, but I still take the precaution to shield the flame with my hand as I lean in to light the kindling. The fire catches almost at once, and in a minute a great deal of smoke billows up toward the sky. Satisfied, I sling the pack over my shoulder and scale a large oak. All that's left to be done is to gather and light the third fire and then return to our meeting spot.

Following my instinct to befriend Katniss turned out to be my best decision yet in the arena. From the moment I spotted her token – the golden mockingjay in flight, wings brushing the rim of the circle that enclosed it – I knew I could trust her. Anyone who the mockingjays can trust, I can trust, too.

Katniss acts almost… like the sister I never had. Protective. Funny. Sincere. Making sure I had enough to eat. Interested in the stories I told. Willing to share everything that she has. Last night, I realized I would trust her with my life. With the handshake we made yesterday, we sealed more than an allegiance. We made a friendship.

Today holds a mission: we wipe out the Careers' food. Without it, they'll start to starve, and that will make then weak and desperate. Maybe then she'll stand a chance. Katniss, not me. I know I'll never get out of this alive, but I think that Katniss stands a chance against the other tributes. Who else is left? I rack my brains. Four Careers. The girl from Five. The boy from Ten. Thresh and me. Katniss and Peeta.

Swooping around in the trees, I've missed the dappling of sunlight and leaves that can only be seen on the forest floor. A quick glance at the sun tells me that I have plenty of time until I should light the next fire, so I land neatly on the ground and travel the distance to the next fire on foot. Although flying is faster than walking, there's so much about the forest that I miss while up in the branches.

The day is alive with the hum of bugs, the rustle of leaves, and the twitter of songbirds. I spot a squirrel scurrying around the roots of a pine. Tracker jackers swarm around their hive that I give a wide berth to. A mockingjay lands in her nest to a chorus of welcoming chirps from her chicks.

As I walk, my thoughts are drawn back to the remaining tributes. If Katniss is to indeed win, she'll have nine others to get through or outlast. With the Careers without food, that leaves the sly red-haired girl – maybe the Careers will finish her off? -, the boy with the crippled leg –he might be using his leg to his advantage to make him seem weak when really he's strong -, the powerful Thresh, safely hidden across from the Cornucopia – he would prove to be a real challenge -, Peeta – how would Katniss handle that? She said that the all of the romance was made up, but I'm pretty sure that she has some feelings for the boy -, and me. I quickly push the thought of either Katniss or I being forced to kill one another. I could never hurt her, and I'm sure she feels the same.

Preoccupied, I don't notice the disturbed leaves and mesh until I'm right on top of in. I trip, and the world spins crazily as the hidden net springs upward, swallowing me. My weight pulls the mouth of the net tight and I cry out, the rough rope burning my skin. The net spins slightly, suspended four feet off of the ground.

Blood rushes in my ears as the trees swirl around me. Gasping for air, I sit up slowly. I've sprung a pretty simple net, yet it's quite effective. The rope is thick and coarse. I can fit my arms through the holes in the net, but there's nothing within reach. My pack is still on my back, and clumsily getting into a sitting position, I spill the contents onto my lap: food, water, matches, some herbs, the sleeping bag, and a sharp stone. I eye the rock. It doesn't look nearly sharp enough to cut through the rope, but I try anyway. Neatly repacking the back, I set down to work, sawing at the rope.

An hour passes and I've made little progress. I haven't even been able to cut through one of the knots. A series of loud blasts causes the ground to tremble slightly, setting my net bouncing. I sit bolt up, listening hard, fear thrumming through me. No, it isn't a cannon blast. Relaxing slightly, I slump wearily in the net. Explosions? How could it have been explosions?

"_Katniss, even if you could get to the food, how would you get rid of it?"_

A smile tugs at my lips. Yes, out of all the possible ways to ruin the Careers' food, Katniss chose explosives. In a minute, the majority of the blasts have subsided, though two or three more go off at random intervals. Then, I hear a real cannon blast. I bite my lip, hoping that that wasn't Katniss's cannon.

The sun dips down toward the horizon. I try everything I can to get out of the net, including chewing it and trying to burn it with the remaining matches, but nothing works. I remain firmly netted. Night finally sets in, and overhead, the seal of Panem shines and the anthem is played. The picture of the boy from District Three is shown, and then the boy from District 10. The seal reappears and the sky falls dark again. A wave of relief washes through me, making me feel dizzy. I hadn't realized I was holding my breath.

Being this far off the ground, it's a safe bet to assume that no animal is going to find me. Tributes, on the other hand… The Careers will be combing the woods, searching for whoever destroyed their food. But what can I do? In the darkness, I eat a meal of berries and some dried meat, and wrap myself in the sleeping bag against the biting wind.

It feels like my eyes have only been closed for a few seconds when I awake. The sun has climbed high into the sky. Blinking sleepily, I try to stand up and fall awkwardly to my side, net twisting and bouncing beneath me. My eyes fly fully open as the events of the previous day come back to me. I massage my leg and gauge how far the sun has traveled already today. It must be nearly noon.

Breakfast consists of nuts and berries. I'm not sure how long I'll be up here, so I ration my food carefully. The sun has reached its highest as I neatly pack away the sleeping bag and reorganize my belongings. I slip my arms through the straps and find a slightly more comfortable position.

Since it's clear that I'm unable to get out of here alone, my only other option is to wait for Katniss to find me. Sighing slightly, I fold my arms and wait. To keep from getting too bored, I hum some of the songs that we sing in the orchards at harvest time. I don't dare sing them unless someone passing nearby hears me. Sunlight glances off of the wings of a passing mockingjay, and an idea comes to me. I open my mouth and sing the song I taught to Katniss. The mockingjays fall silent, waiting for more. I repeat the four notes, and they sing back, voices sweet and clear.

The sun continues on its path across the sky. With little else to do, I've just decided to get the stone out of the bag to return to the futile sawing, when footsteps behind me makes me freeze. Slowly, barely even daring to breathe, I turn to face the sound. "Katniss?" I whisper, unsure. The ferns in front of me rustle, and out steps the boy from District One. His eyes rest on mine, and a smile curls his lips.

"What do we have here?" he says stepping forward. My heart pounds wildly in my chest. In the boy's hand is a long spear. He circles the net. "You're District Eleven, aren't you. Did you help her?"

Fear is making my brain slow, and it takes me a few seconds until I realize that he's talking about Katniss. I keep my lips firmly closed, shaking slightly.

"I said-" Marvel, I think his name is, pulls a knife from his belt and with one fluid movement severs the rope keeping then net up. I try to get my hands out in front of me to break the fall, and I end up landing hard on my side with a sharp gasp of pain. "-did you help her?" Marvel looms over me, his spear held aloft. That's when I scream.

His eyes narrow. "You did, didn't you?" the boy accused, arm drawing back.

"Katniss!" I cry, struggling against the net, praying that she's somewhere near. "Katniss!"

Through the trees, I hear her shouting. "Rue!" She's so close. "Rue, I'm coming!" Marvel looks slightly startled to hear Katniss so close, but he's hungry for the kill. He wants me dead. Katniss breaks into the clearing, but it's too late. As the spear comes down, I reach my hand out to her and say her name.

Pain as blinding as the sun doubles me over. I'm on fire, being torn apart, gasping for breath. Marvel's blood splatters me as he falls, but I'm pain, pain, pain. My body folds in around the shaft, and now I'm seeing Katniss, aiming her bow into the trees all around us.

"Are there more?" she shouts, gazing around wildly. "Are there more?"

I have to repeat "No" several times before she hears me.

Katniss shoves Marvel away and pulls out her knife, cutting me free of the net. Black dots dance across my vision as she assesses the damage and learns what I already know. There's no bringing me back from this. She doesn't try to tell me everything will be all right. She just clutches my hand tightly with both of hers.

"You blew up the food?" I whisper, gritting my teeth and focusing on getting the words out.

"Every last bit," she says.

The words tumble from my mouth. "You have to win," I say, trying not to sound desperate.

"I'm going to. Going to win for both of us now," she says. A cannon blasts, and Katniss looks up. I can't bear the thought of her leaving. Not now. I grip her hand tighter.

"Don't go," I beg, fighting against the pain.

Katniss moves in closer. "Course not. Staying right here." She pulls my head into her lap and brushes my hair gently with her fingertips. I can feel myself slipping away, and I try to stay a bit longer, to last a few more seconds in these woods with a girl who has become my friend.

"Sing," I breathe to her, hoping she heard me. As blackness closes in, I hear her faintly begin to sing. I can't make out the words, but her voice is sad and beautiful. My eyes flutter shut. As death pulls at me, I think of my parents, my siblings, and Katniss. With her voice still in my ears, I slip into the dark.


	4. Foxface

**Dislaimer:** I am not making money off of any stories that I write on FanFiction, including ones based on Suzanne Collins' books.

This chapter is dedicated to Amata le Fay for her suggestion. I was originally planning to do this scene from Prim's point of view, but this one works better, I think.

* * *

**Book: **The Hunger Games

**Scene: **The feast

**POV: **Foxface

Balanced in an awkward crouching position, I hold my breath. The cameras must be having a field day outside, the residents of the Capitol gleefully putting bids on our lives. My legs are slowly loosing feeling and my arms ache from the effort of staying balanced, but I don't dare move.

Last night, that Capitol man, Clavence Templemyth or whatever, boomed out over the entire arena, calling the remaining tributes to a feast, declaring that this was to be no ordinary feast. I've seen a handful of feasts before from the past Hunger Games. Sometimes there are weapons, or food, or survival equipment. One can never be sure what's going to at a feast until they show up. My only clue is what Carter Teatime had said: "_Each of you needs something desperately. This will be your last chance._"

He was right; I _do_ need something desperately. I can't survive another night in the arena, not without a blanket. I had one in the beginning, the high-tech kind that reflects your body heat, but I lost it in the fire. The past few days, the Gamemakers have been messing with the temperature, deliberately pushing it up high in the day and dropping it down to almost freezing during the night. I can't stand it any longer.

I know I shouldn't be here, at the site were the four other tributes will duke it out to reach the supplies first, but I fear frostbite will take my fingers and toes if I don't get my hands on a blanket soon. So here I am, against my better conscience. All last night I mulled over the problem of getting to and from the Cornucopia safely. A few hours before dawn, I finally realized that what I really needed was to get _in_ and _out_ of the Cornucopia. I'd hide inside, wait for the feast, then take my blanket and run. I smiled broadly.

I struck out, arriving at the flat plain when it was still dark. Checking carefully from a copse of trees, I crept out into the open, tense, ready to spring back into the shelter of the branches at the slightest hint of danger, but nothing moved. I surveyed the clearing again, and then darted to the dark Cornucopia and slid inside the mouth of the horn, careful to position myself far enough back that I couldn't be seen from the outside.

Hours later, I crouch frozen in the same position. The sleepy early-morning sun doesn't warm the golden horn, its metal cold and unforgiving underneath my fingers. Without doubt, the other tributes have gathered around the edges of the clearing by now, waiting for the feast to appear.

The walls of the horn start to vibrate, and I hold my breath. I dare to inch my way forward a few centimeters. My joints complain loudly, but I now can peer around the lip of the horn and see what's happening outside.

Out of the bare ground, a circular table, covered with a white cloth, rises upward laden with four backpacks. Two of the packs are large with the numbers 2 and 11 on them, one is small and orange with a 12 on it, and between them, a medium-sized green bag with 5 on it. My bag. My heart beats faster. The moment for action has come.

I spring out of the horn and dash to the table. My legs are stiff and wobbly, but I push them to move as fast as possible. Reaching the table takes only a second. I scoop up the green backpack, ignoring the other ones, and head for the trees at a full out sprint. No one challenges me, as I assumed. They wouldn't dare reveal themselves to pursue me while their bag lies so vulnerable on the table for another tribute to snatch. My breath comes out as gasps as my feet pound hard against the firm ground. I'm running faster than I ever have in my whole life. In a few seconds, I'm safely under the cover of the trees again.

Out of breath, I lean up against a tree, struggling to regulate my breathing. I could keep on going, but I stay. Maybe it's because I want to see who will walk away from the feast and whose blood will be spilled, or maybe because it would be good to know who gets which backpack. In any event, I convince myself that it would be better to stay. I sling my pack over my shoulder and sit on the ground with my back against a tree, hidden from view, to watch the action.

The District 12 girl has made a break for the table, bow in her hand. Ever since the reaping, I've kept a close eye of the girl from District 12. Katniss, I think, her name is. Not like I care. But she's a fighter, with more gut than most of the past tributes from District 12. She didn't seem all that smart, but I guess she's pretty good with that bow to have survived this long. And the crowd loves her. They just lapped up the whole romance move, hanging on to every second. It makes me want to puke, but I'm careful not to underestimate her.

Out of the woods flies a knife, gleaming in the weak sunshine, and District 12 deflects it with her bow, sending an arrow flying in the direction of where the knife came from. She reaches the table and thrusts her arms through the strap of the smallest pack. As she turns to go back the way she came, a knife catches her on the forehead, sending her reeling backwards. Blood pours down her face, and she shoots blindly with her bow.

Out from the trees charges the girl from District 2, her arm bleeding but a wild excitement in her eyes. She knocks District 12 to the ground, pinning the smaller girl with her knees. She cries out in triumph.

"Where's you boyfriend, District 12?" the second girl asks smugly, her voice carrying to me from across the clearing. "Still hanging on?"

"He's out there now. Hunting Cato," the girl, Katniss, replied coolly, her face smeared with blood. Cato I assume is the boy from District 2. "Peeta!" she hollers, calling to her fellow tribute.

The second girl punches her, cutting off a second cry. She glances around, bracing herself for a figure to come out of the trees to the girl's aid. When no one appears, she turns back.

"Liar," she smirks. "He's nearly dead. Cato knows where he cut him. You've probably got him strapped up in some tree while you try to keep his heart going." District 2's eyes fall on the orange pack wrapped around the girl's arm. "What's in the pretty little backpack?" she crows, prodding the pack. "That medicine for Lover Boy? Too bad he'll never get it."

I blink. The District 12 boy, Peeta, is badly hurt? I had assumed he had just teamed up with his fellow tribute. I never thought that he was out of the running since I hadn't seen him in the sky. And now the District 2 girl is obviously in cahoots with _her_ district partner. I store these bits of information away to scrutinize later.

District 2 opens her jacket, revealing an impressive display of knives. She carefully chooses an almost dainty-looking one with a sharp, curved blade. "I promised Cato if he let me have you, I'd give the audience a good show," she explains as if talking to little child, her smile as cruel as the blade she chose.

The District 12 girl struggles futilely to free herself. "Forget it, District 12," the girl snarls. "We're going to kill you. Just like we did your pathetic little ally… what was her name? The one that hopped around in the trees? Rue?" At the mention of the dead girl, Katniss looks upset and angry.

"Well, first Rue," District 2 continues, "then you, and then I think we'll just let nature take care of Lover Boy. How does that sound?" she asks, her voice sweet. "Now, where to start?"

She wipes away the blood from the other girl's face and scrutinizes her, tilting her face from side to side as if trying to decide what to carve it into. District 12 tries to bite her hand, but the second girl grabs her hair and forces her back to the ground.

"I think," she practically purrs. "I think… we'll start with your mouth." She teasingly traces the outline of the pinned girl's lips with her knife. "Yes, I don't think you'll have much use for your lips anymore. Want to blow one last kiss to Lover Boy?"

The trapped girl growls and spits in her face. I smile slightly, admiring her bravery but knowing that it'll cost her. District 2 looks livid. "All right then," she hisses. "Let's get started."

From behind her, a dark figure barrels out of the trees. District 2 has just begun to cut the girl's face when the newcomer yanks her off, and she screams. Katniss, sitting up, gasps, and I feel like gasping, too.

The boy from District 11 looks tall, menacing, and powerful. He appears as if he's actually gained some weight while in the arena. His eyes are glittering and dangerous, and he strikes an impressive image, towering over the dazed girls. He hurls District 2 to the ground, and for the first time I hear him speak above a mutter. His voice carries like a trumpet call.

"What did you do to that little girl?" he shouts at District 2. "You kill her?"

District 2, on all fours, scrambles backward, trying desperately to escape the boy's terrible wrath. "No! No, I wasn't me!" she gasps, eyes wide with fear.

"You said her name. I heard you. You kill her?" A new idea seems to bring on a fresh wave of anger. "You cut her up like you were going to cut up this girl here?"

My heart is pounding. I'm glad that I stayed to see this scene. As District 2 stutters, the boy hefts a rock in his hand. "No, no I-" Her eyes fall on the stone, and she loses it. "Cato!" she screeches, scrabbling away. "Cato!"

From the woods, far off behind me, I hear the boy Cato shout, "Clove!" I can hear him thundering through the trees, trying to get to the clearing. My stomach clenches in excitement. I have a feeling that he won't get there in time.

In the clearing, I see the blur of District 11's arm as he smashes his rock against District 2's temple. She collapses, moaning to the ground, and even though there's no blood, I can tell she's a goner. The tall boy whirls around, rock still raised, to face District 12.

"What did she mean?" he demands. "About Rue being your ally?"

"I- I- we teamed up." The words tumble from District 12's mouth as if she can't stop them. "Blew up the supplies. I tried to save her, I did. But he got there first. District One."

"And you killed him?" the boy demands fiercely, but his hand lowers a fraction of an inch.

The girl Katniss nods. "Yes. I killed him. And buried her in flowers. And sang her to sleep." Tears well up in her eyes. My confusion is mirrored on the dark boy's face.

"To sleep?" he asks, his voice gruff.

"To death. I sang until she died. Your district… they sent me bread." She reaches up, and I tense, thinking that she's going for an arrow, but instead the girl just wipes her nose. "Do fast, okay, Thresh?"

The boy Thresh is frozen for a second. Behind me I hear Cato blundering his way closer and closer. He's almost on top of me now, but I don't dare flee, not now. I sit, breath bated, the Katniss girl's life and my future depending on Thresh's decision.

Thresh lowers his rock and points almost accusingly at District 12. "Just this one time, I let you go. For the little girl. You and me, we're even then. No more owed. You understand?"

District 12 nods weakly, glancing quickly at the moaning girl, Clove, lying on the ground not ten feet away. Breathing ragged, Cato runs past my hiding spot with a spear in his hand, not even paying attention to his surroundings. He sees his district partner on the ground through the trees. "Clove!" he calls, fear in his voice.

In the clearing, Thresh turns to District 12. "You better run now, Fire Girl." She didn't need to be told twice. Rolling to her feet, she sprints toward the safety of the trees. Thresh runs in the other direction, scooping up both of the large packs, one labeled 2 and the other 11, and headed out of sight to the other side of the Cornucopia.

Cato bursts out of the trees and runs to Clove's side. "No… No!" he cries, dropping down to his knees. "Clove, don't die."

I rise slowly to my feet, coldly ignoring District 2's desperate pleas. It's clear where to go from here. Cato's not one to sit back and wait for fate to find him. With Clove as good as dead and Thresh with both packs, Cato will seek out the District 11 boy first. I don't want to be anywhere near _that_ fight.

That leaves two options. The first, striking out on my own again, doesn't seem practical. I begin to travel the circumference of the clearing, staying hidden. Behind me a cannon fires, sealing Clove's fate, but I don't even give a backward glance. When I reach the place where I saw District 12 plunge into the trees, I turn and follow the path she broke through the undergrowth. I'm going with the second option: stay close to the group with the most food.

* * *

Let me know how it went! I'm always up for recommendations, but just for the first book for now. R&R, mes amis!


	5. Haymitch

Sorry for the _extremely_ long break! Reality came down hard in the form of school and being grounded. XD Thanks to RueofDistrict11 for your insistent demands for another chapter. You can me the gall to work hard on this chapter to put it up as soon as possible, even though I have homework to do by tomorrow… This one's for you, and everyone else who so faithfully replies to my stories!

**Disclaimer:** Do I really have to do this every time? Ah, oh well. No, I own nothing – zip, zero, zilch, nadda, naught - belonging to Suzanne Collins, including characters and the sorts.

* * *

**Book:** The Hunger Games

**Scene: **Before abbreviated showing of the Games

**POV:** Haymitch

Stupid girl! Stupid, idiotic, careless girl! How dare she almost destroy everything we've worked toward!

I pace angrily back and forth. My fingers itch for a bottle, but I know I can't drink now. I need my wits about me. That trick with the berries could have cost us all our skins. And the girl is so blind, she'll probably boast about it in front of the entire nation. I need to get to her to warn her, but this entire place is bugged. I can't think straight, and it doesn't help that I have a headache. I growl in frustration.

Screw this. I can't do anything without whiskey. Guilt and relief, my two constant companions, lurch in my stomach, but I take a shot from my emergency store, currently in hip-flash form.

There. Much better. As the alcohol kicks in, the world becomes slightly more focused. Colors pop out; lights brighten while shadows darken. My legs stabilize a bit, and I can think clearer. I impatiently loosen the strangling hold of the red bowtie around my neck. I'd rather take it off, but people would throw a fit.

I need to get to the kid, to prepare her. Before she's presented to the whole of Panem.

Striding confidently down the corridor, I bump into one of the brightly colored creatures that's part of Katniss' prep team. She nods politely and makes as if to step around me. I put out a hand to stop her.

"Where's the kid?" I demand.

A look of confusion crosses her face. "Which kid?" she asks, puzzled.

"Katniss," I snap impatiently. "Where is she?"

"Oh," the woman says. "Down the hall, second on the right."

I grunt a thanks and march down the corridor. The buzzing of the chattering crowd above grows louder as I follow the directions to an unmarked door, which stands ajar. Beyond, I see Katniss in a shimmering dress, standing on a large steel plate, which is obviously intended to lift her up onto the stage. I approach her and lightly touch her shoulder.

Katniss springs away, arm jerking as if to pull a ghost arrow out of an imaginary quiver. She recognizes me and stops. Mind still in the arena, I'd say.

"Easy, just me. Let's have a look at you," I say, inspecting the outfit that Cinna made for her. She spins, arms outstretched. I have to say, that man is as sharp as a tack. He may look soft, but those gold-lined eyes don't miss a thing. He put the kid in a pretty, yet youthful, sundress, making her look girlish and more vulnerable: a look that's exactly what she needs right now.

I huff in grudging respect for the man. "Good enough."

Katniss tries to look nonchalant, but I can see I hurt her feelings. She still doesn't see that everything's so wrong; she thinks she's won. "But what?"

I look around the musty room with its piles of sawdust and smell of new paint. No doubt there'll be cameras here, and whatever I say will be recorded. I think hard for a second, teetering on the edge of just saying it out loud, and then I get a sudden idea.

"But nothing," I grumble quickly. "How about a hug for good luck?"

I see confusion flash in her eyes, and for a moment panic washes over me, as I'm sure she'll refuse, but then she throws her arms around my neck. I wrap my arms around her and hold on tightly. Leaning in, I put my lips almost to her ear and begin to talk very fast and very quietly, blessing her thick hair that is concealing my lips.

"Listen up. You're in trouble," I whisper urgently. "Word is that the Capitol is furious about you showing them up in the arena. One thing they can't stand is being laughed at and they're the joke of Panem."

Katniss stiffens in surprise, and then gives a tinkling laugh. "So, what?"

"Your only defense can be you were so madly in love you weren't responsible for your actions." I withdraw and adjust her hairband. "Got it sweetheart?"

"Got it," she says, and I can see that she's starting to realize just how far deep in we are. "Did you tell Peeta this?"

"Don't have to," I reply. "He's already there." It hurts to know that even though all they've been through, Katniss still doesn't believe the boy was being honest. She'll always carry her view of life; you can't trust anyone, for no one will trust you. It's not her fault, but I had hoped that she would warm up to Peeta after he continued to prove his loyalty to her. I see her eyes flash. She thinks I was suggesting that Peeta's more able than she.

"But you think I'm not?" Katniss says, voice challenging. She reaches out and straightens my bowtie.

"Since when does it matter what I think?" I say in a resigned voice. Those words are truer than I'd like to admit. "Better take our places," I suggest, leading her back over to the metal circle. I turn to face her. "This is your night, sweetheart. Enjoy it." I kiss her lightly on the forehead, and then whisk out of the room before she can reply. I don't want to her to get too used to that sort of mushy nonsense. And besides, I don't want to miss out on the show.


	6. Alternative Chapters

_**Disclaimer: Don't own Hunger Games. Period skip a space. Below are several scenes that didn't make the cut and never became full chapters. These are the unedited versions.**_

**Disclaimer:** ((snooze)) Zzzzzz… Wha? Oh. Yeah, I don't own the Hunger Games. Sorry to let you down, but yeah. ((snore))

* * *

**Book:** The Hunger Games

**Scene:** The feast

**POV: **Prim

School is cancelled today in event of the feast in the Games. It's a mandatory viewing for everyone, and even though a mandatory viewing usually brings an air of dejectedness and resentment to District 12, this time the air is sweet with the taste of hope. People smile at me as I pass them in the streets, excited to have not just one, but _two_ tributes to root for so late in the games. I just keep my eyes fixed on my shoes as I hurry home.

Only when I shut the door to the outside do the anxiety and the fear that now live permanently in my stomach come out. I can hardly bear the thought of life without Katniss, who has always been more than just my sister. The past month or so has been a blur, one agonizing splinter of time where Katniss was ripped from my life, leaving me hollow and confused, without my sister, friend, mentor, and protector.

With Katniss being the sole provider of food and income to our house before the reaping, her absence provided my mother and me with more than one problem. The most demanding was food. Lady's milk brought us a few extra coins, as well as my mother's healing, but we still were finding it hard to get food on the table. On the whole, District 12 has been more than generous to us. The baker gives me a small loaf of bread twice every week, and when I work up enough gut to brave the Hob, Greasy Sae always buys Lady's milk at a twice its worth.

My mother sits in a chair by the stove, idly stirring a pot of water; her eyes are slightly unfocused. After my father died in a mine explosion, my mother became despondent and confused, unable to take care of us. That's when Katniss stepped in as an honorary parent. I feared that with Katniss's loss, my mother might resort to her old ways of depression, but she's held together so far. As long as Katniss has remained alive, anyway.

"Mother," I said, dropping the satchel I was holding in a vacant chair. Not getting any reaction, I walk in front of her so she can't ignore me. "Mom!"

Her head snaps up and she turns toward me. "Prim…" she says softly. "There's… there's a feast today, isn't there? Mandatory viewing, right?"

I just nod. "Yeah. We should leave for the square soon." Sighing deeply, my mother rises to her feet and walks toward the door, looking slightly determined. I follow her and close the door firmly behind me.

A large cluster of people has already gathered in the square in front of the large screen, waiting for the program to start. As they catch sight of us, they move back respectfully so that we can get to the front of the knot and to the best seats. The members of District 12 give my mother and me encouraging smiles and kind words like, "She's a fighter, your sister" and "She'll make it through". I smile weakly back.

Up at the front, I choose a spot near the baker and his family, and Gale and his family. Both men are avoiding eye contact with the people who swarm around them and are looking at the screen expectantly. On the far side of Gale is Greasy Sae with her granddaughter. She nods and gives me a smile, just as the screen flickers to life, and all noises from the square are extinguished.

The seal is shown, the anthem is played, and Claudius Templesmith gives a quick synapse of the calling to the feast and each of the tributes' reactions. I see Katniss brushing off Peeta's worried remarks and assure him that she is _not_ going, which I know is an obvious lie. She receives a silver parachute, gives the contents to Peeta, and watches him drift off into an induced sleep. The cameras cut to the other tributes, whose reactions range from delight to worry to thoughtfulness.

Now the cameras are on live. In the center of the screen is the Cornucopia, glinting in the morning sunlight. Around the circumference of the clearing I can see the District 11 boy, the two District 2 tributes, and Katniss. I count on my fingers. Peeta is still knocked out back at the camp, but there's someone else I can't think of.

Out from the ground rises a circular table with a white cloth on it. On the surface are four different colored backpacks with numbers pinned on them: 2, 5, 11, and 12. District 5, that's who I forgot.

Almost as if my thoughts summon her, the red haired girl from District 5 leaps out of her hiding spot inside of the Cornucopia, snags her green bag, and dashes off. The crowd in the square groans loudly at the clever escape, and I bite my lip. That girl is sharp and fast, a real threat to Katniss, but I can't help admiring her daring. None of the other tributes will risk hurting her, not when someone else could scope up their bag during the scuffle.

The screen now has shots of all of the tributes on the screen at once. I see Katniss coming to the decision that it's now or never. I inhale sharply as Clove raises one of her throwing knives, ready to take the offense. Katniss takes off and the crowd rises to their feet all in a wave, egging her on. She's headed for the Cornucopia at a full out sprint as Clove hurls a knife at her. Katniss deflects it with her bow and then launches a well-aimed arrow. Clove is hit in the left arm, and a cheer erupts from all sides of me, but the arrow unfortunately hits her non-throwing arm.

* * *

This chapter was so much fun to write. Yes, all of the grammatical errors were intended. That's how I've interpreted Thresh to talk and think like.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any stuff by SuCo, blah blah blah, here's the chapter.

* * *

**Book:** The Hunger Games

**Scene:** The feast

**POV:** Thresh

That girl, Knives, mention her name, and anger burns in my stomach. Is she the one who kill little Rue? I narrow my eyes in rage. That girl must pay.

I run out of the trees, to the two girls, one trapped, one a killer. In one swift move I yang Knives off the Fire Girl, and she scream. Good. Let her be afraid. Fire Girl sits up and gasps, shocked and scared, but she is not important now. I slam Knives into the ground.

"What did you do to that little girl?" I shout, towering menacingly over the girl. "You kill her?"

Knives scramble backward hastily. "No! No, I wasn't me!" she says, eyes wild.

"You said her name. I heard you. You kill her?" I take in the situation. Anger flares inside of me, hot like flames, as I imagine her digging her knife into the face of another victim: Rue, trapped and helpless. "You cut her up like you were going to cut up this girl here?" I snarl, raising my rock, my only weapon.

. "No, no I-" Knives' eyes fall on the stone. She see my threat, and her eyes roll in fear. "Cato!" she screeches. "Cato!"

How dare she! She think she can call her little friend and he will save her. I have enough of this girl. Behind in the trees, I hear the Cato boy call her name, but he'll be too late. I heft the rock above my head and bring it down hard on Knives' temple. She drop to the ground, moaning, an indent in her skull. She not going to survive that one.

* * *

**Book: **The Hunger Games

**Scene: **Mutt attack on the Cornucopia

**POV: **Cato

My chest heaves as I try to regain my breath. Sweat is sticky on my temples. but I have to recover quickly. I have to get back in control.

The infernal mutts are snapping inches away from where I stand, and I'm reassured that they can't quite make it this far up. That eliminates one problem. I turn to face my second.

Just feet away from me stand Katniss and her boy, Peeta. The traitor. I should have known it from the beginning. Dirty little District 12. He almost ruined the entire Games for me, almost destroyed my last chance of winning. He deserves to die. Now.

Both of the tributes are facing away from me, grappling with one of the mutts. I lunge forward and grab Peeta, holding him tightly in a headlock. For someone wounded as badly as he is, he puts up a fair fight. I remember he said he used to wrestle before he was reaped.

Katniss whirls around and aims an arrow straight at my head. I can see fear and desperation in her eyes. I laugh.

"Shoot me and he goes down with me," I sneer.

She freezes, realizing what shooting me will cost. We're at a stalemate. She can't shoot, I can't kill Peeta. But the clock's ticking, and I can feel Peeta growing limp in my grip as he starts to suffocate. I smile triumphantly. I've got them both.

Just as I'm sure I've won, Peeta raises a hand. I could almost laugh. He still thinks he can fight me? But instead, he traces something on the back of my hand. An X. I hear my sister's voice in my head, singing, "X marks the spot!"

I try to move, but Katniss is faster. One of her arrows pierces my hand, and I cry out in pain, reflexively releasing Peeta. He slams backwards into me, and I teeter on the lip of the horn over the waiting mutts. Then, after the longest second of my life, I lose my balance, and fall backwards into empty air.


End file.
